You Should Stay
by Miss Elisha
Summary: A series of drabbles featuring George and Alicia. Set in my Gain of a Loss universe and referenced in chapter 7 of GoaL, but a year before that story starts. Sequel to my You Should Go drabble series, and a continuation of that story.
1. Chapter 1

The shop was empty and had been all day. Verity had the day off, and Fred and I were leaning on the counter going over the registers. I heard the door open and looked up. "Alicia . . ."

"George." She attempted to smile, then, as an afterthought, added, "Fred."

He stood up straight and flipped the register we were currently looking at shut. "Well, I can see where my place is in this conversation--in the office!" He picked up the book and hurried into the office we shared, shutting the door behind him.

"What are . . . what can I . . ." I stammered, trying to make some opening, but no words seemed to fit.

Part of my brain told me that things shouldn't be awkward between us at this point. We'd come to a sort of understanding that last time we spoke, the last time we were together, and I, for one, felt much easier about everything that had happened. We both knew where the other was coming from, and there was comfort in that. Even if it was pain, and anger, and hurt. It was so easy to relate to.

I'd asked her to stay with me that night, even after the sex, to simply stay in my bed and in my arms, to comfort and to be comforted, and she had. She'd made me coffee in the morning, then left with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. And I was okay with that. It suited both our needs.

You'd think it would make things easier, that we could talk now, go back to being friends like we'd been for years.

But it wasn't easier; it was only different. We were friends, but more than, less than, something else entirely. And I had no idea what to say to her.

"It's all right. I don't really know what to say either." She crossed the floor of the shop and stood in front of me, the counter separating us a small space. "I just wanted to . . . to see how you were. This week has been . . . hard."

"They're all hard, anymore, but I'm fine."

"Fine? Really?"

"Well," I shrugged, "the same. How about you?"

It was her turn to shrug. "The same."

"Guess we can't really ask for more than that at this point."

"No, I guess not." We stood there for a moment, me picking at a notch in the counter with my thumb, Alicia fingering the hem of her jumper, neither of us sure of where to go next. Then all of a sudden she said, "There is something I've been thinking about though."

"Oh?"

"I just thought, well, it occurred to me that you might . . . need . . . want . . . someone . . . to talk to." I didn't respond, so she added, "_I_ might." I think she took my lack of response for unwillingness, or misunderstanding. "I mean, I know you've got Fred, but I thought maybe . . . if you'd like . . . I could cook . . . or something. I'm gathering that you don't really like breakfast all that much, but I am a decent cook, and I could make us dinner, and we could just . . . you could . . ."

"Just ask."

"You should stay with me."


	2. Chapter 2

"I should stay with you," I repeated dumbly.

"Yes," she said, stronger than before. "You should stay with me." She didn't look any more certain about the idea than she had the first time she said it, but knowing her, now that it was out, the last thing she would do was back down from her own suggestion. "I don't mean . . . permanently, just, you know, sometimes."

_Oh_. I couldn't help but smirk. "I see. So you're not asking me out, you're propositioning me, is that right?"

"No!"

"Then you're trying to take advantage of me again?"

"Advantage?" she all but shouted. She suddenly seemed to remember that we were technically in a public space, or perhaps that Fred wasn't far away, because she glanced around the shop quickly before leaning over the counter to hiss at me, "The way I remember it, you offered."

I held my hands up in surrender. "So I did." She straightened and took a deep breath, but her face was red and she would not meet my eyes. "Besides," I said, "there's nothing wrong with wanting a little advantage now and then."

Finally she did meet my gaze, and I gave her a thin smile. "No," she said, "there's not."

"I need you to do something for me first."

She'd known me long enough to instantly take on a suspicious glare at that kind of request. "What?" she asked, again flicking her eyes around the room.

"Oh, it's nothing dangerous. Then again, Angelina's never been known for her cooking skills, so it might be."

Her face scrunched in confusion. "What?"

"Have lunch with me. Angelina's bringing us food any minute now, and I'd rather not have to sit and watch them," I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at the office door, "go at it while I'm trying to eat. You can distract me so I don't toss it all up."

"Wow, George, you really know how to flatter a girl."

"I'm not trying to be flattering. I'm trying to give you the advantage." I raised my eyebrows and gave her my best pointed look.

"Yeah?" she asked, a smile threatening the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah. You should stay."


	3. Chapter 3

"You and Alicia, eh? I knew it would work. You ended up with one of my brunettes after all."

"I didn't 'end up with her,' and nothing worked. It was just lunch."

"But you've shagged her. More than once."

"So?"

"For you, that usually means you've ended up with her, at least for a bit. I'm fairly certain _she_ thinks that's what it means."

"Well, I'm positive she doesn't. And I think I'd know better than you."

"But you've been—"

"Fred, stop. It's not a relationship, and it never will be. She and I both know that perfectly well, and that's the way we want it."

"All right, fine. You must be a pretty good shag then, if she keeps coming back for more."

"Would you sod off?"

"No."

"It's not like that."

"Okay then, if that's the way you want it, I'm sure you're a terrible shag."

"It's just . . . not like that."

"Really, I think it's a good thing. You need to get out a bit more. And Alicia's a good friend, she fits in well. And you know she's wanted you for years."

"She's wanted one of us for years. It's only me because you're off limits."

"Whatever. And even if she is a brunette, I think you could make it work. You should stay with her."

"I can't."


	4. Chapter 4

But I did stay with her, off and on, for months. Sometimes there was nothing for weeks, but there were stretches when I'd see her often—she'd show up at my place, or we'd run across one another somewhere, or Fred or Angelina would set something up for the four of us. Very occasionally I'd go to her, and those were the awkward times. It's one thing to satisfy a mutual need, or even to offer solace to one who needs it; it's quite another to go seeking it for yourself, requesting it of someone in particular. It was mutual, and that did make it easier, but at times it felt a heavy burden to lay on a friend. There was guilt there still, relief, responsibility, and somewhere along the line obligation came into play. If something bad happened, if there was an attack or if someone died or disappeared, we were together, whether by her prompting or mine made no difference. It was inevitable, and expected, and understood. The reminder of current circumstances compelled us to forget, and that meant the morning would find one of us in the other's bed.

It hurt to stay. It hurt to go. It hurt to knock on her door and to shut it behind me the next day. The only thing that didn't hurt was doing nothing, and that was worst of all.

And as much as we both knew we couldn't stay together, couldn't keep this up, we did. We didn't acknowledge it though, never mentioned or made reference to any relationship between us, even in our private conversations. The closest we ever got was our acknowledgment that no relationship existed, that we were free to do as we pleased.

She'd come to me that evening, after we hadn't so much as glimpsed each other in weeks, and simply sat down on the sofa without so much as a greeting. She'd been on a date, of all things, and not the first, with someone she'd met at work, and by her account it sounded like it went very well. She almost smiled a time or two just telling me about him.

"You know, Alicia," I began, relieved and frightened to be giving voice to the freedom she had always had, "this thing between us, it's not—"

"I know."

"And if you want—"

"I know."

"If he makes you happy--because I know this doesn't--you should stay with him. Let him give you something I can't. You should stay with him, and let me worry about me."

"Not tonight. Maybe not ever."


	5. Chapter 5

It got worse at the end, just before it all got better. As Harry got closer and closer to his final victory, the Death Eaters increased their attacks, striking wildly and repeatedly, incessantly, and the number of dead climbed. We'd lost Charlie in June, then in early August Lee disappeared, and Dad was killed just a few days later. The whole family—the whole _world_—was in disarray.

As I had grown accustomed to doing those days, I shut myself off, shut myself down. Going out was dangerous for anyone, but that wasn't the problem; it was depressing, and I had enough of that without ever leaving the flat. I barely even spoke to Fred. And as much as I wanted to fill the void I felt by any available means, I could not bring myself to go to Alicia; this was too much, too personal.

She came to me instead. When I opened the door and saw her there, saw the concern on her face, I sighed. She hadn't come for herself, she'd come because she thought I needed her, that I was too distraught even to seek her out, and the fact that she was partially right was more than a little shaming.

By simply showing up she had hit too close to home; I'd just lost some of the people I cared about most, and here she was presenting me with something akin to real emotion.

"This isn't fair," I told her without explaining further.

"Fair is gone, George. Take advantage of what you have in front of you. Isn't that what we're all about?" I nodded reluctantly and led her into the living room, and she took my hand as soon as we sat down. "You know you could've come to me with this, don't you? I want to help. I hope you think of me as a friend and not just a free shag from time to time. I am here for you if you need me."

But that was exactly the problem. "I don't want to need you at all." I felt her fingers twitch around mine, and grimaced at what she must have thought I meant. "I can't, I..."

"No, I get it. I do. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends, or that we can't help one another."

"How could you possibly help me in this situation?" I asked, more harshly than I intended. I shook my head and dropped my voice to a near whisper. "How does this help either one of us?"

Her voice was as soft as mine when she answered, "It helps to know I'm not completely alone. I thought it helped you too."

"I thought it did too. Now I just don't know."

"Well, if you figure it out, you know where to find me," she said, but not unkindly, then stood and walked to the door.

"Alicia..."

She didn't turn around, merely paused. "Are you going to tell me that I should stay?"

That was what I had intended to say, but now that I'd been called on it, I thought better of it. "No. Just that... I'm sorry."

"I know. Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

When it was all over—the war, the attacks, the constant fear—there were two distinct responses: the first, most obvious and expected, was joyous and celebrant, and there was rejoicing throughout every segment of wizarding society; the second, for those of us who were affected differently, more directly, more personally, it was like walking out of a pub into the early morning sunlight and wondering exactly what had happened the night before. Everywhere was noise and light and _people_, and a solemn few of us wandered through the crowds, through the jubilation, both seeking a way to join in and knowing we wouldn't find one.

Business boomed for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, immediately and overwhelmingly. Laughter had been gone for so long that the general population had gone into withdrawal, and they were so eager to get it back into their lives that we could not keep our shelves stocked. And of course, working in a joke shop you're expected to be animated and lively, so I was forced to go along with the conviviality, to play out the farce, for endless hours in the face of the public, and by the end of each day I was completely drained. What's more, I was more than a little disappointed in myself for not joining in their good spirits, for not finding a way to be happy with them. But the fear and the pain and the loss were still too present, and I could not escape.

Fred once again took up his efforts to make me socialise, this time thinking there was no reason for me to object and simply dragging me along wherever he went. I didn't resist. I wanted to be a part of it all, wanted to feel the elation the rest of them felt. It just wasn't there.

So when I saw Alicia smiling with some bloke I'd never met one evening while Fred and I were out... well, I couldn't blame her. She was actually smiling a real, full smile, not the half-hearted gestures I'd seen over the past months. I didn't let her see me then, just made some excuse to Fred and left. She would know that I was faking my cheerfulness the instant she saw me, and I didn't want to remind her of what that meant, of all the bad that had happened and that I was still feeling. I wasn't ready to face her, and she didn't need me bringing her down when she had so recently made it up. That was the least I could give her, and the most, letting her have her joy, letting her smile.

Eventually Fred started dragging me along less and less, spending even more time exclusively with Angelina, and that just added to it, heightened my already depressed state. And now there was no Lee to keep me company, no Alicia to keep me... whatever it was that she kept me, and going home to the Burrow was more than I could bear.

Frankly, I think Fred sort of gave up on me, and I couldn't really hold it against him. Enthusiastic as he is, he doesn't have the energy to be happy enough for the both of us, and though he gave it a valiant effort, eventually he realised that he had to be happy for himself. It was probably better for both of us that way.

Of course, he'd still ask if I wanted to go out sometimes, tell me about all the fun he'd had and places I should have been, and proclaim that I needed everything from a good shock to a trip to St Mungos to a girlfriend. One evening while he was off on that last tangent he said he'd seen Alicia, and that she'd asked after me.

"You should go see her. Now that things are better you might be able to make something of it."

"I told you a long time ago," I said, "I can't stay with her now. Besides, she's probably got some other bloke by now."

"Well, she was alone when I saw her. She'd want you over anyone else anyway. Go see her."

I shook my head and walked away from him. "I can't. I don't want to bring her down anymore. She's better off without me. I want to at least give her a chance to be happy."

"Don't you think you should tell her that, then?" When I didn't respond, he followed me across the room and said, "Look, if you don't want to be with her, then don't be with her. But she obviously cares about you enough to want to know that you're okay. Go see her. Tell her you're peachy and everything's grand if you like, but go see her."

Half an hour found me knocking on her door.

It took her so long to answer that I was about to leave. She gasped when she saw me. "George, what are you doing here?"

"Fred mentioned you were wondering where I'd got off to. I was in the area, so I thought I'd let you know."

"Oh," she said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door most of the way closed behind her. "Yeah, I was. Good. Thanks. So... you're okay, then?"

I almost told her the truth. I almost blurted out that she should grasp at any happiness she could find and forget about me, because I would never be able to give her what she needed, what she deserved. I almost brought her down with me.

But right then a voice—a male voice—called out from inside her flat, saying, "Alicia, who's at the door?"

She blushed and bit her lip, dropping her eyes to the floor, and pulled her door shut.

I thought better of my intended words. Instead, I gave her a tight smile and said, "I'm peachy. Everything's grand. And you're doing well too, I see. Or hear, rather."

"I am doing quite well, thank you, but _you_ are a terrible liar."

"Well, I suppose there should be one thing I'm bad at. It's only fair." She rolled her eyes at me and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "No, don't. You should go be happy," I said, pointing at the door.

"So should you."


End file.
